


One Single Yesterday

by grumpyphoenix



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DCBB, DCBB2015, Domestic, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Time Travel, Underage Sex between Underage Kids mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5224433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix/pseuds/grumpyphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel are living a settled life, looking after Claire and her daughter, until Sam goes missing. When Castiel notices that something about their lives has changed, Dean goes chasing Sam through time on his quest to fix what went wrong.<br/>DCBB 2015!</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Single Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> You already know that this is a time travel fiction, so I'm not really putting spoilers up here. This is the use of language. At some point, Sam is going to be interacting with his younger self. For ease of language, Dean starts calling the past-Sam "Sammy" and his own present day Sam as "Sam". 
> 
> Much love to my artist [Ashahtaylor](http://ashahtaylor.tumblr.com/post/133338480931/my-drawing-for-the-dcbb-draw-for-paintmeaheros/), who did some great art, and was very responsive to requests.  
> I'm also deeply indebted to [Cliophilyra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliophilyra/works) For being an amazing Beta, My husband for his critical eye, and [Ladyaiel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyaiel) for being a cheering section and offering another eye, even though I procrastinated too long to take the offer.;)

 

 

 

 

 

She runs through the woods and the overgrown fields. She leaps over mossy rocks and felled trees, running through brambles that scratch her cheek and tear at her dress. She yells as she runs, howling for the sake of it; a sheer noise straight from her heart. She runs until her sides hurt and her breath comes in tiny little rasping gasps, falling on her ass next to a tiny stream, laughter bursting raggedly out from her pained lungs. She lies there, listening to the water burble past, catching her breath. She can see the sky through the trees, clouds lazily floating around in the bluest of skies.

“Blue is the color of my true love’s eyes,“ She hums to herself, and willfully ignores the fact that she is late. Not just a little late: about a half an hour late now by the quality of the light. She stretches, and thinks about just staying here all night. “It would serve them right, “ She mutters petulantly.

“What would serve them right?” A deep growl near her right ear makes her bolt up and roll into a crouch.

“FUCK!” she laughs, “Grandpa D! Don’t DO that!” She plunks herself down onto a large rock. “I don’t understand how you can be so quiet. “

Grandpa D smirks, and sits next to her. “For an old guy. The day I need a walker is the day they put me down.” He elbows her. “Laurel. You are late for your own birthday party. You’re gonna make your mother cry, and then I have to hear about it from your Grandfather. Why are you running around out here instead of blowing out candles?”

Laurel shrugs, and kicks at the rock with her heel. Her grandfather waits, watching the water burble by, his face unreadable. Finally, she just sighs. “It’s mom. We got into a fight this morning. I asked for my own gun, and she just.” She makes a vague gesture. “She says I’m too young. It’s not like I can’t use the thing. I hit everything I aim at, and I’m 17 now. “

Her grandfather murmurs, “Bullseye, every time.” Laurel doesn’t seem to hear him, too engrossed now in tying and retying her shoe. She had learned this ‘miracle knot’ from her mother, and now kept practicing it obsessively.

In his day, the double knot had been good enough, goshdarnit.

“Come on,” he stood, and his voice brooked no argument. “Time to go.” Laurel’s back straightens automatically and she obeys, though she retains her scowl, which only ratchets his grin up a notch. Then she laughs, and the two of them leave her tension and anger behind them, walking through the woods in companionable silence.

They hit the edge of the woods and into a freshly mown field. Three houses stand here now, all sharing the massive field as a backyard. In the center there stands a gigantic tree, the ground around it a riot of colors. Claire had long ago stopped trying to thin out the flowers that grow here, and so they are now out of control, a lush spreading bed of sweet smells. Grape vines wrap themselves around the trunk, heavy with the grapes that Castiel uses to make wine in the early fall. The tree is decked out in white fairy lights now, and strung across the yard are Chinese lanterns, waiting for dusk. Teenagers in swimsuits fill the yard, yelling and spraying each other with water, eating and talking and taking pictures on cellphones. Shrieks of laughter and chatter vie for ear space as music plays at a decibel that makes her Grandpa D. grin, and her mother scowl. Her mother stands now in the midst of the hullabaloo, arm crossed over her chest, eyeing Laurel. A clamor for the birthday girl has her tossing her hair and ignoring her mother to join a pack of girls who absorb her into their midst.

Dean comes and gives Claire a kiss on the cheek. “Go easy on her, kiddo. You remember what you were like at her age. She’s just eager to prove herself.“

Claire scowls and grumbles. “You three don’t make it any easier. Everyone wants to be like you, Dean. I think Laurel has a crush on Sam, and Castiel…” she shakes her head. “Honestly. None of you looks as old as you should be, but Castiel barely ages. Laurel’s classmates all want to rip his clothes off.”

Dean shrugs, stuffing almost an entire half a sandwich from the food table in his mouth all at once. He chews with his mouth puffed out like a squirrel, watching with amusement as she stomps off. He feels a breath on the back of his neck, and two arms slink around his waist from behind.

“Why do you do that?” Castiel murmurs in his ear. “You could at least let her think you care what she says. “

Dean swallows, and then swallows again, turning to face him. “Because, darlin’. She’s getting too uptight. Do you remember what a pain in the ass she was? Laurel is just like her, stubborn and angry. She’s going to drive Laurel away like this, and the way she’s feeling?” Dean distractedly traces the line of Castiel’s mouth with his thumb. “I’d hate to see Laurel go on the road alone right now. She is ripe to move to the Bunker with Charlie and learn the ropes, but if we press, she will take a car instead and fuck off to who knows where. Then she would be hunting on her own.”

Castiel awards Dean with a gentle kiss, savoring the noise he can hear in the back of Dean’s throat.

“You’re right, of course. Sam called, and said the nest he is rooting out is going to take a little longer, but he will give Laurel her birthday presents next week.”

Dean snorts. It means that Sam has gone to see Amelia again, and when he comes back, he will be moody and uncommunicative. He opens his mouth to say something derisive, but Cas puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder with a smile. He knows.

They both walk through the party, picking up trash, refilling trays, monitoring the music. They sit with a pair of beers as the sun goes down and watch Laurel enjoy herself. The grill is heating, and fireflies start making an appearance at the edge of the woods. He and Cas, he reflects. There’s barely a need for words anymore; Castiel just seems to understand him already. Even without his grace, he can read Dean like a book.

When it gets truly dark, kids begin to get a little rowdy. Couples are chasing each other around the tree, passing a couple of girls pressed up against it, kissing like there’s no tomorrow. The change in tone at the party is not coincidental. Every summer solstice they have a celebration here, and the air is like a drug. It’s more intense at the tree and rolls outwards like a fog, and in the morning the carpet of flowers and greenery around it has grown. Dean reckons that if it weren’t for winter, there’d be no grass at all in the back yard. There is no way to escape the effect unless you leave the compound, so Claire usually takes off, just to avoid morning awkwardness, almost all of it on her side. Until a year ago, she’d take Laurel with her, leaving Cas, Dean, Sam and whatever guests they had to their night. A kid brings out some pot and several of them disappear into the dark together. Dean knows they will be picking kids off the lawn like puppies in the morning, mostly naked, wet with dew and disoriented. He is surprisingly okay with that, amused at how far he has mellowed over the years.

In the beginning of this gig, he was stricter than he would like. He and Castiel had nearly devoured each other, and the ongoing angst and passion had been too much for Sam, who started roaming more and more. Eventually they bought an actual house near the bunker and settled into it. The fights had been legendary.

When Jody…when Claire showed up, they turned into one big family. It gave them both something to focus on other than each other. Sam had put it the best way; saying if it wasn’t for Claire, one of them would have been dead within a year. He was probably right. Dean was no picnic to live with, and Castiel had lost none of his stubbornness. Despite the lack of his grace, he could still throw a wicked punch. Dean had taken a long time to stop pretending to be John though, and Claire had taken the brunt of most of the military upbringing crap. He thinks Laurel has received some of that from Claire, and it makes him feel guilty when he thinks about it too hard.

He sits on the patio in the dark, in his favorite lawn chair, back from the dim glow of the lanterns. Castiel returns from checking the perimeter of the woods, and spies him in the dark. He meanders his way over to Dean and sits on his lap, facing him with his knees on either side, passing him a joint. They sit for a while quietly smoking and staring into each other’s eyes. Fuck, Sam had hated that, the staring. He just didn’t know the secret that Dean hoarded deep in his heart.

You could see the universe in Castiel’s eyes.

When Castiel begins to rock back and forth, Dean can only groan, whispering a token resistance. He inhales deeply, sucking the scent of flowers, and his head spins. Vaguely, he murmurs something about the teenagers nearby, but he can hear them in the distance having good times on their own. He and Cas are very much alone here in the dark.

Cas does some very flexible things with his body to take off everything below the waist without dismounting from Dean’s lap. He discards his pants, and then unbuttons Dean’s, his gaze ordering Dean to lift up just a little so Cas can slide them down to his thighs. They rut against each other in silence, staring into each other’s eyes until they come together, muffling their cries with a lightning quick kiss. Castiel licks the come off his fingers slowly, and Dean wishes (not for the first time) that he was younger and could get it up again. Instead, he kisses it off Castiel’s lips.

“I will always love you.” he murmurs against them, “Until I am dead and then when I am in heaven.”

They go the few feet to their home and sleep there cocooned in each other’s arms.

Dean doesn’t stay down for long. His body aches and a non-specific dread fills his dreams, which leave him awake and a little on edge. In the blue light of dawn, he slips downstairs in just his boxers and makes coffee. It burns his tongue, bitter and perfect at the same time. He watches the kids sleep on the lawn through his kitchen window while he makes pancakes. He doesn’t eat them, stacking them on his plate and playing with the fork. His palms itch, and the feeling of wrongness does not leave. Finally, he stabs the stack of pancakes with fork, and leaves the house still in his underwear. He heads for Sam’s house.

When he and Castiel bought their home, Sam lived with them for a while, but his relationship with Dean began to wear thin. Sam eventually refused to live with them and moved into the bunker, quoting some stupid thing about ‘fences and neighbors Dean’. As time wore on though, he and Amelia reconciled and finished their headlong rush into marriage. Dean never did get the story about how Sam managed to get her to give up on Don, but soon they bought more land and built Sam a house next to theirs. Then more, until they owned a huge swath of woods and empty fields in Lebanon. Land here was surprisingly cheap, mostly because very few people lived around there. Eventually, though, Amelia left, making Sam deeply moody and prone to outbursts. Occasionally he and the bitch patch things up, but it never goes anywhere good.

Dean is only a little surprised to find that Sam has changed the locks again. For a second he ponders going back for lock picks, but he has just come too far already. If he goes home, he’ll eat pancakes and get comfortable. He mimics Sam in a whiny voice as he climbs up onto the porch roof, ignoring the protests of his knees and shoulders, “Blah blah Dean, privacy, meh meh.”

“Suck it, Sam,” he jams his hand upward, breaking the flimsy lock on the upstairs bathroom, and awkwardly gets himself inside. There is no way he is going to admit that he just can’t fold his ass into a tiny window the way he used to. Everything is (ow, dammit) fine.

The house is quiet. Makes sense, Sam’s not home. Still, though, it is kind of a …weird quiet. Dean accesses an emergency gun stashed behind the toilet tank, makes sure it is loaded, and prowls through the house. Upstairs seems fine, although a little dustier than he would have thought. Neat as a pin, just like Sam. When Dean gets downstairs, his step falters and he lowers the gun.

Sam has been eating and sleeping in the living room downstairs. He has a white board on wheels set up, covered in notes written in dry erase marker. Sticky notes and newspaper articles with Sam’s careful writing in the margins cover the wall next to it, connected by yarn strings. By the look of the sheets and blankets still tangled on it, Sam has slept on the couch every night for weeks. Dean runs his hands through his hair and tries to take it in.

“Sammy,“ he whispers, “What the hell have you been doing?”

*******

“Well, the vampire nest isn’t real, “ Charlie pipes up, engrossed in Sam’s laptop, “If I didn’t know something was going wrong, I’d think that Sam was turning into a science fiction author, though. “ She looks up at Castiel and scrunches her face a little. “If I hadn’t read the Winchester Gospels, I’d just be thinking Sam had gone off the deep end. But time travel? Really?”

Castiel smiles weakly and shrugs, “Dean is an old hand at it now.”

“Well, that was an unpleasant conversation,” Dean comes in from the hallway, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Amelia hasn’t heard from Sam in over a month, and she’s kind of annoyed because he keeps promising to see her, and then cancelling.”

He and Castiel stand looking at the board. Charlie gets up and joins them, hands shoved deep into her pockets. “Time travel. I just don’t understand. I mean, after all you have been through, why does he want to do this now. Everyone is so…settled.”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders tight, and his eyes betraying the slow burn building in his head. He opens his mouth, and then shakes his head, turning away from the board, pacing back and forth. Sam had taken some of the most crucial pieces of information with him, and they just didn’t know enough.

Charlie chews on a red licorice rope absently before looking up at Castiel, “You sent the both of them back a couple of times. That was Angel mojo, right? How is Sam even going to do this?”

Dean sits down on the arm of a chair, arms crossed. “Castiel used some of Bobby’s soul to bring us back when his power was weak. Henry said something about doing the same, when he crossed forward in time to us. Could he be using his own soul, and some weird ritual he found in the vaults?”

“No, Henry was imprecise,” Castiel points out, “He travelled too far. He’s going to need more “Mojo” than his own soul could provide.” Castiel flinches a little and looks at his own hands when Dean makes a low growling noise in the back of his throat.

“He’ll need more than one,” Dean provides to a confused Charlie, “More than one soul, and probably not his own, since he’ll continue to need it.”

“Also because his is fragile,” Castiel whispers, “And he might damage it if he puts too much stress on it. He knows that.”

 _ **“Goddamit, Sam!”**_ Dean stands up and paces back and forth, getting more frustrated with each pass. “Why didn’t he just talk to me, Cas? He went to Crowley and made some kind of fucking deal, why?”

The silence lies like a heavy blanket over the three of them. Dean knocks the board over with a punch as he storms out. Castiel quietly picks it up as the back door slams.

*******

Castiel sits heavily on the edge of the couch. He has been pacing for hours, and now he’s tired and on edge and angry at his husband. Dean is cooking, the smell of hamburgers filtering into the living room makes him deeply uncomfortable, and he can’t figure out why. In fact, there is something off about the room and he can’t pinpoint that either. He closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of Claire and Dean in the kitchen bantering. The sound is comforting; Claire poking Dean until he says something sarcastic but ultimately loving to her, and Dean turning the tables on her. Castiel has been always been amazed by his ability to be a father to everyone. Hell, it had caused many fights between him and Sam about his son. Sam had to keep reminding him to be an Uncle, and not a father to…

Castiel shoots to his feet and rushes into the kitchen, interrupting the beginnings of a truly epic condiment battle between father and daughter. He makes a lot of noise as he comes in, flustered and waving his hands, but he can’t quite articulate what’s wrong until Dean grabs him and looks him in the eyes. He centers there, gazing into endless green.

“Dean, where are all the pictures of Bobby?” Dean looks confused, so he elaborates, “Bobby. Sam had pictures of him everyplace. The baby picture in the silver frame on the mantle, the little wooden box with pictures in the cover, the ugly picture book Claire made for him…It’s gone, Dean, all of them, all trace of…” he trails off, staring at the expression of confused incredulity on Dean’s face.

“Cas,” Dean starts, “I…don’t think even _Bobby_ had a baby picture of himself, much less Sam. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” He blinks, and takes a step back, staring at Castiel’s stricken face.

“Not Robert Singer,” Castiel says very slowly, each word loaded with more dread. “Sam’s son, Bobby John. He and Amelia had a son, and you can’t remember him. In fact, I think all trace of him is gone.”

*******

Everyone follows Castiel into the living room, where he rifles through papers, and takes a deep breath before he begins, “I think one day Sam woke up, and his son no longer existed. So he started sorting through his things, and talking to people, and realized that there was a point where his past diverged from what he remembered. This being Sam…”

“He started researching something dumb,” Dean growls under his breath.

Castiel flinches, “He obviously felt he couldn’t talk to us, the very idea sounded a little off. I mean, he thought no one else remembered Bobby John, and he still vividly remembers what it was like to go crazy. “

Dean takes this in, pacing like a caged animal, “Why, Cas? Why can you remember it, but I can’t?”

Castiel opens his mouth, but Claire’s voice from the kitchen doorway interrupts, “Because he was an angel. I can remember my cousin too. I think it was because I was Castiel’s vessel once. I think Sam can remember because he was the vessel for two of them.”

Castiel closes his eyes as Dean scowls. “We are beyond time in a way, Dean. Sam has a piece of the Grace of two angels lodged in his soul, and it has left its mark. We are obviously not immune to the effects of whatever happened here, and there are probably things we are missing as well, but Bobby John was important to us, so he stuck. “

Charlie sighs, closing the laptop with a definitive snap, echoing into the sudden heavy silence. “I think you're right, he must have contacted Crowley. He has access to souls, and Sam knows he’s been aching for some payback since that thing…and that other thing, and the fact that his mother is still alive, which just makes him into the grumpiest ass. Getting Sam lost in time would probably tickle him to no end.“

She slings one arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Dean, we have to go after him. Time travel is not a good plan, even in an Asimov book, which this is not. All kinds of freaky shit can go wrong, and I definitely like the fact that it’s been years since any of you broke the world, even a little bit.”

Dean nods tightly, scrubbing over his face with his hands. “Fine. I will see Crowley, and the nerd squad can decipher exactly what weird ass Men of Letters voodoo he used.” He stalks out of Sam’s house, grabbing his coat angrily as he goes.

“Once upon a time,” Charlie muses, “he’d have made a Doc Brown joke or something. It’s kind of disconcerting.”

Castiel watches the screen door swing back into place, a furrow etched into his brow.

Castiel does not like Dean to associate with Crowley. He wishes it were because Crowley is still the King of Hell, because he manipulated Dean into accepting the mark, or because he’s so shifty that his agendas have agendas. Castiel wishes it was because of anything other than plain jealousy, but it isn’t, and he can own that. He doesn’t have to like it though.

Even after Cain took the mark back and Dean was demon-free, for a long time Dean and Crowley stayed in touch. Castiel is almost sure they had still been sleeping together too, but Dean is very unreliable on this point. Since they’ve settled down, Dean has made it a point not to see Crowley as often, but Castiel isn’t stupid. He knows that they occasionally meet to drink and belligerently flirt. Whatever Crowley will ask of Dean in return for his help isn’t going to make Castiel happy, he’s sure of it.

*******

Dean sighs. “Castiel is going to hate this, Crowley. And he’s going to want to come with me.“

Crowley has a smirk that borders on manic, and he shrugs.

“Castiel,” he says in a low gravelly purr, “Can bite my magnificent ass.” His deft hands never stop adding ingredients and drawing sigils on the table as he speaks. “If he wants to come too, he can put his grace back in, and do this ritual all by himself.”

Dean hunches his shoulders and continues pacing, staying silent. He wouldn’t ask Cas to do that, for a number of reasons, really. Chief among them being a constant fear that if he was to become an angel again, Castiel might simply fly off, distracted by his abandoned family and Heaven’s constant siren call.

“Heaven still being a pain, eh, Crowley?” He leans against the table, rewarded with an eyebrow lift. “I heard that they have a lead on the demon tablet…” he trails off, looking up at the ceiling disinterestedly.

Crowley straightens up in an explosion of breath. “They have more than that. After that bitch Metatron took off, it became quite clear that they still have the thing. Luckily, they still have the wagons circled and aren’t doing anything with it. What they are looking for is the other one.” He smiles to himself. “The pieces were scattered, but, for the resourceful…” He cuts off midsentence. “Voila. Now get your lovely ass off the table and stop jiggling the bowl.”

Dean stands up, and gets out his cellphone, “Just going to tell him where I am.” Crowley starts chanting, and Dean blinks at him as the phone rings. “Dude, wait….”

He can hear Cas answer the phone, but the chanting is too loud. He tries to say Cas’ name, but then Crowley kind of…disgorges a bright light into the bowl. His phone falls from nerveless fingers as he tries to hold onto his lunch.

*******

Dean can feel every degree of this frigid room in his bones. Every joint aches so hard that he has to hold back an undignified noise of pain when he rights himself. He’s able to contain it to a series of old man grunts, but just barely. Also, he notes, once he’s actually sitting upright, it’s back-of-your-eyelids dark in here. He stiffly scoots himself backwards until he feels a (damp) wall behind him, and then pushes himself upwards. Fingers running lightly along the uneven freezing surface, he finds a doorway, then a knob, and pushes. The light stabs at his head maliciously, and for a second he considers the damp floor as a welcome alternative. Adjusting to the light, he begins to comprehend where he is; a decrepit, leaking bathroom attached to a bedroom in what has to be the local haunted house.

He sees signs of Sam after a few minutes of searching the place. Squatting in abandoned houses something they haven’t need to do for a long time, but old skills die-hard. Without the Impala to put anything in, Sam has hidden his stuff well, but not well enough to fool his big brother. Dean leaves with a gun and a small wad of cash. He does not leave a note; Sam will know who carefully rifled through his things, took weapons and half his money, and returned the rest. Also, Dean is going to find the sonofabitch as soon as possible and punch him in the mouth. No note needed.

Turns out they are in Sioux Falls. Dean would recognize the place in his sleep, and the date on the papers makes a sour stone form in his stomach. It’s not long before Jody…and of course, that tells him where Sam is. He steals a grey truck from the back of what had been Bobby’s favorite bar, and drives towards the Sheriff’s house.

*******

He’d made Sam almost immediately, spotting him crouched in the light woods behind Jody’s house. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?” he hisses, creeping up behind him, making him jump nearly a foot. Laughing, he claps his hand down on Sam’s shoulder, pushing him down so they both crouch. “You are so rusty, little brother. I shouldn’t be able to sneak up on you like that.”

Sam eyes him for a long moment before grinding out, “Why did you follow me? How do you even know to follow me?” Dean steals his binoculars and looks into the house instead of answering. “Cas remembered, didn’t he?”

Dean points at the house, “Past you is in the house, talking to Jody. Wanna tell me why you’re in there, Sam? On this date, of all dates?”

Sam sighs, nodding his head back to the road. “We have some time. “

*******

Eventually they end up parked a few doors down from the Sherriff’s house, eating burgers, with the heat cranked up. It didn’t make the persistent ache in Dean’s shoulder stop, but the heat was welcome anyway.

“So, the night Jody died, I… well, I was here.” Sam begins, “I had an idea. We had just bought the land around the bunker, and I had this thought about Claire. So Cas flew me here, and I came to talk to her. You two were having one of your fights, and it was going on so long that I think he thought it was the end, so he needed the scenery change. Anyway, before I could get halfway through the explanation, Amelia called, she got really angry about something I said, and so I had Cas take me back to her, and then…” Sam looks at the floor. “I just couldn’t take it, and I didn’t tell you. I would have been here, Dean. If I hadn’t gone home, I would have been here. I didn’t want you to know how hard I’d fucked up. I know things between us never really recovered, but I just…couldn’t take what this did to you.”

“The kicker is that Amelia just denied everything when I got back, even denied calling me, and we got into this really…horrible fight, and she kicked me to the curb. When I found out that Jody was being murdered while we were fighting over this stupid shit, we broke up completely, and so no Bobby John. I know you’re pissed at me, Dean, but I just couldn’t tell you what was going on. I felt crazy enough as it was. One morning I woke up with this laugh echoing in my head from a dream. It was a man’s laugh, but it just felt written into my life, like the way I know your laugh from when we were kids. Then I woke up, and I could remember pieces of Bobby J., sliding memories together like a puzzle. I remember his high school graduation, and the same old fight you and I got into about Stanford when he left for college. He’d still be there, if…look, I don’t remember much else about the rest of the time line, but I know he’s real. He has to be real. I get it, I’m betting all our futures on it, but I can’t just leave it, he’s my son.” Sam looks down at his hands dejectedly.

Dean clenches and unclenches his hands. He has been itching to punch his brother for a while now, but he can’t really fault him. He didn’t know. No one did. “Where,” he says softly, “was Cas in all this, anyway?”

“Right here,” Says a slightly pissy voice from the back seat.

Dean jumps and then laughs. Cas has never lost his sense of timing. Or the ability to appear from nowhere and startle the bejesus out of someone.

Castiel tilts his head and looks between the brothers. “You are both out of your time. Why have you come back here? What has gone wrong?”

*******

The explanation has Castiel’s brow furrowed. “You must put this right, Sam, but the problem is not just the difference in time, but the identity of the person who has so expertly changed your fate. Even if we do step in to save Jody’s life, the problem remains that it seems that someone wishes her dead and we do not know who, why, or what they will do next.“ He looks at Sam hard, carefully avoiding Dean’s face entirely. “What do you think...” He tilts his head, “Sam is calling me. I suggest we tell him the conundrum.”

Dean holds up a hand, “Whoa there. Won’t Sam explode if he meets himself, or something?”

Castiel looks out the window instead of over at Dean. “No. This is not a movie, Dean. Not everything is so neat and tidy.”

Dean grinds his teeth. He had forgotten that this was the point in their relationship where everything had balanced on a knife’s edge. They were apart more often than they were together, and Cas had to be hurting badly right now. He twists around to look at the angel.

“Cas,” he starts, but the quiet whisper of wings interrupts him. He scrubs a hand over his face.

Sam opens his mouth, but then the backseat abruptly fills to capacity as Sammy and Castiel both appear in it at the same time. Sammy winces and tries to shift a little. “You couldn’t like, teleport me outside the truck, Cas?” His eyes fall on the pair in the front and he goes silent.

This time the explanation goes much faster, mostly because Sam and Sammy are pretty much telepathic anyway, one of them starting a sentence and then trailing off into silence, only to have the other one pick up with a nod and then the beginning of a new sentence. About ten minutes or so into planning how to save Jody, it beings to seriously freak Dean out and he leaves the car to get some air. Twin bitch faces make him grimace and shake his head. “Whatever you want, Sam. I’m in.” The car door slamming on them cuts off sound abruptly and it feels like an actual literal weight has fallen off his shoulders.

Leaning against the truck, he tilts his head up and regards the sky. It is as clear as it could be, and the relative lack of light pollution here lets him take in the vastness of space above him. He ignores the subtle whoosh of wings. He can feel Castiel behind him, close and silent.

Dean quirks a smile, “On our fifth anniversary, we had just bought another acre of land around the house.” He leans his head back against the truck window. “You and I brought a picnic out to this clearing in the woods there, and we spent the night gazing up at the sky.” He straightens up, only to find Castiel not even a foot from him, staring. “It was good. Cold, but I didn’t really notice until we got home. Then we took a hot shower to warm up.” He leers at Cas, and sighs when he gets a flat look in response.

“I find it hard to believe…” Castiel cuts off abruptly, turning away from him.

Dean reaches out and trails a hand down Castiel’s arm, murmuring his name. Castiel’s back stiffens, and for a moment, Dean thinks that he might just fly off again. Instead, he turns and looks Dean in the eyes. Dean freezes in place, mesmerized by nostalgia. Back home, Cas’ look can still see into his very center, but Castiel’s stare used to go right through him and pin him in place. Dean leans forward very slowly until his breath brushes against Castiel’s lips. His eyes drift shut and he can hear Castiel’s breath go ragged.

Castiel literally disappears at the sound of polite coughing, and Dean makes an exasperated noise in the back of his throat. Jody stands there with her hands on her hips and an amused expression. “You know, I’d think you boys would be more subtle with all that experience you have stalking people.”

Dean shifts to stand in front of the passenger window to block the inside, and Jody’s eyes narrow. He clears his throat. She crosses her arms. He sighs and knocks on the glass, “Jig’s up, Sam.” The look on her face when both Sams emerge from the truck is entertaining.

“Well,” she drawls, amused, “The explanation for this should at least be fun. C’mon inside, Donna’s made an epic beef stew.“ She eyeballs everyone, “Sam the younger has had some already.”

*******

She is correct; the stew is truly epic. Dean eats happily even though he knows he should slow down. His ability to digest something like this has rapidly dwindled over the recent years. He lets Sammy explain the situation while Sam joins him in appreciation for the food. Time travel is hard on the system, and he’s pretty sure that Sam hasn’t eaten in a few days. They watch Jody’s expression go from disbelief to tightly controlled anger.

“So, you are telling me that tonight, a group of vampires come here and kill me and Donna? Well, the hell they are. I’m not letting vampires destroy my home and my future,” Jody looks across at Donna, who nods grimly. “So, older Sam, tell me, why did the time line change?” Dean raises an eyebrow, being quite interested in this himself.

Sam tucks an errant lock of hair behind his ear and shrugs, “I don’t know.” At Dean’s irritable look, he shrugs. “Dude, I don’t know. Look, I barely remembered what really happened anyway. It’s like…it’s like remembering a really vivid dream, and going through the day just not knowing if what you remember is a dream or reality.” He hunches his shoulders a little. “It’s weird, okay? All I know is that this moment…it seems to be pivotal, because everything before it is a solid memory.”

Donna blows out a long breath. “Okay. So when does this happen? And the girls, should we send them away?”

Dean and Sam shake their heads at the same time.

“They should stay where we can protect them.” Sam says, “Claire… when we talked to her afterwards, Claire said it happened at Midnight. She was on the phone with her friends instead of sleeping, and she heard it. When she got downstairs…”

Jody narrows her eyes. “That little sneak. She knows she isn’t allowed to be on her phone that late.” She looks startled at Dean’s sudden laugh, and then looks sheepish and rubs her eyes. “Sorry, I know, that seems ridiculous, considering what is going on.”

Dean shakes his head, with a fond smile on his face. “It’s not just that, honestly. From my timeline, I remember those late night phone wars. Cas finally had to lay down the law with me; it was an unwinnable fight, and he was getting tired of my crap. ”

Jody raises an eyebrow.

“Claire came to live with Castiel and Dean…after,” Sam supplies gently; “They looked after her together.”

Jody presses her lips together, her eyes suddenly shiny. Blinking rapidly, she turns around, turning the tap on to begin washing the dirty dishes. Her hands shake and she drops a glass on the floor, shattering it. Crouching, she tries to clean up the mess, accidentally cutting her hands on the jagged edges of each piece. She keeps trying to pick them up, one by one, until Donna reaches over and touches her on the shoulder. She leads Jody away to the table, and begins cleaning her wounds. Jody lets her, mutely looking at the blood.

Sam and Sammy look at each other awkwardly. Dean turns around to give the women some privacy, to see Castiel, expression unreadable, standing in the doorway to the living room.

“We should prepare,” he murmurs, “It is eleven now.”

*******

At dawn, Dean and Castiel are standing watch together at the living room window, the rest of the weary group sprawled on available furniture. Dean watches as golden light filters through the curtains and highlights the deep browns in Castiel’s hair. He envies the light that touches his husband’s face, especially where it lingers on his bottom lip. He longs for home, for his current version of Cas, and it feels almost physically crippling, as if he has been dealt a hard blow to the stomach. He takes an involuntary step backwards when Castiel turns away from the window.

“It seems we’ve been stood up,” the angel sighs.

Sammy stands up and stretches, nearly whacking his older self in the face with his oversized limbs. “I think,” he starts, “that we should take another look at what’s going on with you, Jody,” Older Sam finishes the sentence effortlessly.

Dean shudders. “You two are getting really creepy.”

Both Sams give him the same cocky smile and he makes a face at them both. Privately though, he is pleased. It’s the most _himself_ that Sam has been in years.

“So, Donna,” Dean says, slipping an arm around her shoulders, “How about some breakfast? Let me show you this amazing pancake recipe I got from this Bed and Breakfast owner that I saved from a pair of Ghouls a couple of years ago. Do you have buttermilk?” He leads her into the kitchen.

Castiel trails behind them.

*******

Castiel is staring again. He and Dean are cleaning up the breakfast dishes while Sam and Sammy are mind melding or whatever, and Dean has him drying. “Honestly,” he grumbles, “I know why the bunker doesn’t have a dishwasher, but the Sherriff…” He cocks an eyebrow when he catches Castiel’s eye, and gives him an expectant look.

Castiel tightens his jaw, and looks down at the dish he is drying, rubbing at it with his towel.

“You’ve been drying that dish for about five minutes now, I think it’s done,” Dean smiles, removing the dish carefully from his hand and putting it on the stack. “What is it, Cas? It’s okay, just ask me.”

Castiel looks up at the ceiling, “You and I,” He shakes his head. “No. _He_ and I. We are always fighting. The things you say... I don’t _believe you._ ”

Castiel moves suddenly into Dean’s space, his body taut like a bow.

“I think you are lying to me, and I want to know why. The last time I saw him, he told me to ‘get lost’, among other things. He had made it most of the way through the contents of several bottles of whiskey at that point, so he was quite verbose. And creative.”

Dean tries to edge away, but Castiel is having none of it, crowding him into the corner of the counter and the wall, pressing his body against Dean’s in one long line. He gets his hands in between them, trying to push Castiel off, but he impatiently takes both of Dean’s wrists in one hand and pins them over his head. Dean’s breath goes erratic, and he closes his eyes, trying hard to control himself. He pulls, experimentally, but Castiel’s grip is like iron. Just like old times, his brain spitefully reminds him. His body agrees, damn it to hell.

“What game are you playing, Dean?” Castiel whispers into Dean’s ear, “It isn’t like I don’t enjoy your stupid games from time to time, but this one has me baffled.” He grinds his hips against Dean, and is rewarded with an involuntary whine from the back of Dean’s throat. “Do you just miss me? Is that it? In the future, have I grown tired of your neglect and left you?” He gently traces two fingers over Dean’s wild pulse point, studying his face impassively.

Dean arches against Castiel, his brain yammering away behind the beat of his heart. God, he remembers the fights with Cas now in vivid detail. There would be days of staying in bed, athletic sex, violent arguments and even more violent make-up sessions. Dean would beg Castiel to stay, and Cas would leave him for weeks. Cas would show up again and Dean would ignore him.

“Cas,” He starts, unable to move and helplessly hard as the angel keeps a relentless rhythm with his hips. “Cas, please listen. It was…oh, god, Cas just, don’t…it was Claire!” Castiel pauses and Dean's head thunks against the wall as he curses himself silently.

“Claire was despondent, she’d just lost Jody, and she wanted you, so she found us. You decided to stay for _her_ sake, and you and I, we grew back together.”

Cas pulls away to study Dean’s face, running his fingers lightly over his cheeks, his chin, his lips. “When you ignore me, I feel cold. I have never felt such cold, not even when I finally knew that our Father had deserted us.”

Dean captures one of the questing fingers with his lips, sucking it deep into his mouth. Cas hisses, and pushes it deeper, then pulls out slowly, tracing Dean’s lower lip and leaving a trail of wet.

“I love you,” Dean whispers, “every time you would leave for Heaven, I felt that same cold. I felt like I might be freezing to death, waiting for you.”

Cas rests his forehead on Dean’s, and there they stay, entwined against the wall.

Until Sammy comes bursting through from the living room, followed closely by Sam and Claire. “Oh, come on Dean,” Sam says, exasperated.

*******

Everyone packs into the living room again, this time including Alex and Claire, who sit together looking freaked out and angry. Dean sits in the large recliner with Castiel perching on the arm. Donna and Jody take the other couch, watching the Sams as they pace.

“So, we’ve narrowed it down to something. It’s probably a stretch, but it’s the only thing we can think of,” Sam starts. “We think it is actually the idea that we came here with in the first place that’s the problem. “ Sammy finishes.

Dean raises his hand. “Yeah, but how did it become a problem? I didn’t even know you were here, much less what the idea was. How did some random vampires know? Also, what is this brilliant idea?”

Sam holds up one finger, producing a tube of paper that he unrolls onto the coffee table, weighing it down with coffee mugs.

Dean leans forward to look. “That’s our land, with….buildings that don’t exist.”

Sam nods, “Yes. See, we came here to propose something to Jody.”

At Dean’s smirk, Sammy rolls his eyes. “We thought that Donna and Jody could live there, and bring Alex and Claire. We might even be able to tempt Krissy and her crew to come on over. We thought that we could help train a new generation of hunters, right there on the grounds.”

Sam rolls up the paper. “When Jody died, the idea went with her. I think that’s why the Vampires were sent: kill Jody, and kill the plan.”

Jody crosses her arms. “You are sweet, but you should have kept the idea after I died, Sam. “

Sam shakes his head, “No. Sorry, but we just couldn’t get over it. It seemed meaningless to me after your death, and I just couldn’t get it together. And I mean, Dean was never the same either. ” Dean rolls his eyes, but leans into the hand that Castiel places on his back.

Donna takes a deep ragged breath. “Well, I say fuck ‘em. This sounds like an idea whose time has come, doesn’t it?” Jody laughs, and Donna flashes her a bright smile.

Dean stares at the plans thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s enough.” He and Sam lock eyes, and then Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“Well, would you like to share with the class, Dean?” Claire pipes up.

Dean shrugs and repeats, “It just doesn’t seem like enough. Sending people back into the past is hard. Planning and coordinating an attack from the future that goes the way you want has got to take a lot of work. Hunters are born every day, adding a few more to the mix doesn’t change much in the big picture. So I don’t think it’s just that we’d help to train you, it has to be something more. I think you all do something that changes the game itself somehow.”

“That seems beyond any one nest of Vampires, or even an Alpha creature,” Castiel supplies, “It would have to come from someplace central, with enough power to back such a play.”

“Like Heaven,” Sammy’s mouth is a grim line, “What if we used the Angel Tablet and did something drastic?”

Castiel shakes his head. “It is secured now, beyond my reach, and no other angel would retrieve such a thing for you.”

Dean’s brow furrows, “But Crowley said it was the other way around. Heaven has the demon tablet, and are looking for…” he hangs his head. “Goddamit, Crowley. “

Behind him, Castiel snorts, and Dean looks irritated. “Fine, he lied to me. But why would he send both of us back in time then, if he coordinated the attack in the first place? Or at least, send us someplace else to get out of his hair?”

There is silence for a moment as everyone tries to digest this.

“Maybe,” Alex ventures, “Maybe he forgot.” She shrinks a little as everyone’s gaze focuses on her. Donna puts an encouraging arm around her shoulders, and she takes a deep breath. 

“What I mean is,” She continues, “this is time travel. If he sent some goons to fix this pivotal moment in time, and it worked, maybe he just never remembered what happened. Like, maybe he expected to, because he’s a demon, but it didn’t work that way?”

“Yes,” Castiel says thoughtfully, “Only Angels and those who were host to one are able to really retain the duality of a time line changed. Perhaps Crowley over estimated his abilities. It would not be the first time. When the course of events changed, he continued to look for the demon tablet, but no longer had an idea of where it might be, and so has never found it.” He stares across at Sam, who smiles a crafty little smile. Castiel nods.

Dean looks between them and narrows his eyes. “ _You_ have it. Sam, dammit, you have the Demon Tablet?” Sam shrugs, and Dean takes a step forward, stopped by Sammy stepping in between.

He grinds his teeth, “How long have you had the thing? Were you going to let me know this? For that matter, how the fuck were you planning to use it now that Kevin is dead?”

Sam smiles and lean backwards with his arms folded. “I might know something you don’t. However, you stopped hunting, and I wasn’t sure you’d listen anyhow. You and Crowley seem _so very close._ ”

Castiel stiffens, setting his jaw. His hand on Dean’s shoulder tightens, but seems to calm the hunter visibly. “Dean, now is not the time. Now that we know who it is, we need to stop the demons he’s sent. We need a plan.”

Dean points his fingers at his eyes, then at Sam. _I’m watching you, buddy._ Sam just grins.

*******

“So let me see if I understand this,” Donna’s tone is on the edge of hysterical; it’s been a long day, and the more they talk about demons, the worse it gets. Vampires are one thing, she can handle that, but the existence of actual demons is something she wishes she’d been told about, prior to being invaded by the Winchesters and an _actual Angel_. An Angel that looks like he had stepped off an 8 hour bus ride in a much abused trench coat, but an Angel nevertheless.

“We’re going to summon the King of Hell, and just ask him to call the demons off?” Donna’s tone escalates into actual yelling as she glares at Dean, “Isn’t this the guy who _sent them in the first place_? This doesn’t sound counterproductive to you?” Donna points at Castiel. “He hates this plan; I can see it on his face. Shouldn’t we listen to an _Angel_ about this?”

Dean looks over at Castiel, who looks vaguely embarrassed, and very defensive. “He just hates Crowley. And he’s pretty sure that his Majesty might try to kiss me, which always pisses him off.”

Castiel’s stare could probably melt steel itself. Dean winks at him, and Cas disappears with a mild amount of wind and the soft sounds of wings. Papers scatter everyplace. “Mature, Cas!” Dean shouts at the ceiling.

He looks down to find Donna shaking in anger, her face slightly red, and her hands balled into fists at her side. He has no real time to assess this before Donna is punching him square in the face. Jody and Sammy leap forward and wrestle her gently off Dean who stumbles backwards, his hand pressed to his nose.

“C’mon, hon, let’s get you upstairs for a little bit,” Jody says kindly to her, wrapping an arm around Donna who has dissolved into frustrated tears. She leads the other woman around the sofa while glaring at Dean. Sammy goes with them, leaving him with Sam, who sighs and goes over to him.

“C’mere, let me look.” He tilts Dean’s face back in his giant callused hands. “You’ve gotten rusty, old man. There is no way Dean in this time would have let her get the jump on him. It’s not broken, so that’s good. “

Dean sits down with a grunt, head in his hands. “This is going to dissolve if we don’t do it fast. I say we leave Sammy with Jody and Donna to watch the kids, and do it on our own. We get Cas’ feathery ass back down here, and make Crowley fix it.”

Sam squints at him and claps him gently on the back. “I think you’re going to have to talk to Cas a little more, Dean. I think you forget that for him, the thing with Crowley is still a fresh wound.”

“Ugh,” Dean groans, “Come _on_ , Sam, we don’t have time for this crap. More of those assholes will be coming, who knows when, to kill Jody. We have more important shit to do at this moment than hold hands and make eyes at each other.”

Sam snorts, “I hear you man, I do. But come on, this is Cas. He deserves more than being made fun of and dismissed like that. It’s your call, dude. I will go get what we need to bring Crowley here, but I might need to make a town run. I can bring Sammy with me.”

Dean grumbles at his brothers back, “You two are creepy. Like pod-person creepy.” He settles back into the recliner and closes his eyes. It has been a lot for his system, and he isn’t used to being this filled with adrenaline any more. He sighs to himself that this is the most comfortable chair he has ever been in, as the world goes dark around him and he slips into sleep. 

 

 

 

It is dark, and he is lying uncomfortably in the back seat of Baby, but he can see the stars outside the open window and he can hear the sounds of late summer Katydids. Sitting up, he stretches and gets out, looking up at the sky.

“Beer?” Castiel asks from the hood where he’s sitting. He holds two bottles out towards Dean. Dean grins, and comes around, taking one and popping the cap with his ring. He reaches his bottle out to clink with Castiel’s before he takes a long satisfying drink. He turns around, settling back between Castiel’s legs; leaning against the angel’s chest and looking up at the sky. It’s perfect. They stay silent, Dean drinking his bottle dry.

“This is a memory. Did you drag it out of my mind or was I dreaming it already?” Dean flings the bottle off into the dream field.

“You came here on your own,” Castiel flings his bottle as well; “I just took the place of your dream Castiel.”

Dean turns around and looks up at the angel. “I’m sorry, Cas. Crowley was always a sore point, and you were already feeling raw.”

Castiel runs his fingers gently through Dean’s hair, eliciting a shiver and a smile. “Why would you continue to see him when you know it hurt me?”

Dean turns his face to nuzzle Cas’ hand, “You always had one foot out the door, Cas. All I wanted was for you to stay. I wanted to be enough for you to give up the holy douchebag brigade and I just…never was. Crowley felt good. The same as drinking too much and then getting into a fight; it scratched an itch.”

Castiel snorts. “Heaven is my family; it is important work, rebuilding it…”

“I was important!” Dean pulls back and turns to face him, his hands gripping Cas’ thighs hard. “At least I wanted to be important. I just wanted to stay with you forever and be happy, and you couldn’t stop the endless bickering with your family!” He grits his teeth as his eyes tear up.

“I wasn’t important enough, but Claire was, I guess. She came to the house we built and she made it a home. You… you tore out your Grace and you planted it with a tree, and you stayed.” He wipes away the tears on his face angrily. “I guess I didn’t care _why_ you stayed; you were there, and I took what I could get. It was enough just to have you there. Then Claire had Laurel, and I knew you weren’t going anywhere, at least while I was alive, because Laurel was just a kid. Maybe when she grows up you would leave, but by then I’d be old enough to die anyway, and Crowley would always welcome me back.”

Castiel growls, a single word that rocks the fabric of the dream itself, “No.” He leans down and kisses Dean on the mouth, his tongue invading and demanding. Dean pulls him off the car and down onto the soft grass. They kiss as if trying to devour each other, hands desperately pulling at clothing to get at skin, sucking bruises onto each other’s shoulders.

Castiel sits up to straddle Dean’s hips, looking down into his lover’s eyes, whispering, “You are mine.” His hands wander possessively over Dean’s body, unbuckling Dean’s belt with his long fingers and inching his zipper down slowly. He feasts his eyes as he pulls them down off Dean’s hips, as far as he can go without leaving his seat. Castiel bends to place a tender kiss on a hipbone.

“All of this, this is all mine.” He looks up back into Dean’s face. “Give me your soul. Promise it to me so that he can never have it, so he can never touch you again.”

Dean laughs, flipping them both over. He kisses Castiel’s lips, his cheeks, his eyes. “It was yours the moment you laid your hand on me in Hell.”

 _“Dean,”_ Sam says urgently.

Dean looks up, and frowns. “Sam, I’m kind of in the middle of…” He blinks, fog slowly lifting from his mind. “Awake. I’m awake.”

Sam has cleared the coffee table of the blueprints and mugs. In their place, he has put together the necessary items to summon Crowley. Jody, Sam and Sammy stand in a semi-circle around it, armed to the teeth. Castiel creeps into the room from the kitchen, his eyes intense and trained on Dean.

Sam steps up, “Okay, let’s do this.” He sets the contents of the bowl on fire and they spark dramatically while he chants.

Then the door flies open and a horde of demons pour in with murder on their minds.

*******

Crowley is late. When he shows up, Sammy has Ruby’s knife jammed through the neck of one demon while Castiel is ruthlessly smiting another. Jody has pulled Dean into a corner of the room, crouching over him inside a salt circle with a shotgun loaded with salt rounds. Many bodies lie around the circle like dead flies with burned out eyes and gaping wounds.

Their leader, inhabiting a tiny woman wearing yoga pants and a crop top, is choking Sam, holding him up with one hand and laughing.

Crowley’s calm voice cuts through the din. “Stop. Drop the old man and step away, all of you.”

Every one of them freezes. Yoga demon snarls, “This is what he told us he would say. Kill her! Kill them all!”

She throws Sam across the room, where he lands like a rag doll. Jody starts forward, screaming Sam’s name, only to be snagged around the waist by Sammy and hauled back into the circle.

Crowley paces in a circle around Yoga Pants, eyeing her balefully.

“I know you,” He says thoughtfully, eyes travelling up and down her form, “You are one of my most trusted. I sent you on that thing the other month with the witch coven. Such a delicate situation. Handled most effectively. Which is why I am wondering at this ….” He has an angel blade in one hand, polished to a bright shine, and he waves it around to indicate the room: Sam lying motionless on the floor, Dean groggily sitting up.

Yoga Pants looks at the blade nervously. “You sent us here, Your Majesty, from the future. Please, we’re only doing as you’ve asked.” She points at Jody. “She leads her students to the Prophet and the tablet. Together they close the gates of hell! We will be trapped forever!” Her voice pitches into a wail.

Crowley taps the angel blade against his teeth, eyeing her and Jody in turns.

“If she and the non-existent Prophet close the gates to hell,” he says as Castiel wipes blood off his own angel blade, casually standing in front of Jody and the circle of salt. “How are you here to tell this tale?”

Yoga Pants begins to hyperventilate, looking between Crowley and Castiel. “I was sent before the ritual was finished,” her voice cracks.

Crowley sighs. “Let me see if this sounds familiar. The Winchesters find the tablet and the prophet, and my mother convinced you to steal some souls and be subjected to a time travel ritual to ‘save me’ from the angel and his hunter boyfriend. She probably also wanted you to do something else while you were here, yeah? Just a ‘wee favor’ for the Queen Mother.“

Yoga Pants looks defiant. “The Winchesters are beaten, my Lord. We have them all where we want them. We can crush them now, and still move the book your mother desired. We can win, for once.”

She starts for Sam. Crowley sighs and throws the angel blade into the middle of her back. Sparks still going off inside her skull, she crumples on Sam’s prone form. The other demons cluster close together and stand very still while watching Crowley carefully.

He smiles over at Castiel. “She did have a point. If there is a Prophet, and your boys find the tablet…I’m not sure I can rely on the kindness of the Winchesters for very long. Sam, in particular, has a very nasty habit of trying to kill me whenever he sees me. As intriguing as two Deans at the same time might be, I’m not sure why I shouldn’t finish what mother has started.”

Dean shakes Sammy off and crosses the salt line, going through the crowd of demons with a sneer of challenge on his face. He kneels next to Sam and tries to wake him up by lightly slapping his face with one hand, fingers on his wrist to find his pulse with the other. He looks up, panic edging into his eyes. “Cas, he’s not doing so well. Can you…”

Castiel looks down, shaking his head. “My powers are still limited. The doors to Heaven are still closed. I am so sorry, Dean.”

Crowley clears his throat and Castiel whips his head around to glare at the King. Crowley’s smile widens, rocking back on his heels a little and looking up at the ceiling with an expression of mock innocence.

“Well,” Crowley purrs, “Just one kiss would do the trick.”

”Dean, no,” Sammy starts moving towards his brother.

Looking down at Sam, Dean stands up slowly. “Okay.”

The room explodes with Jody yelling at him at the same time as Sammy, and Castiel looking downright murderous. Dean holds up a hand and waits for the din to settle down. “I don’t mean my soul. You don’t have a right to it, and I’m done with being a demon. I mean the tablet. You borrow my soul long enough to save Sam, get the two of us back to our timeline and agree to leave Jody and her family alone. In return, when Sam finds the demon tablet, we destroy it together with you. That way, we can’t use it, and you can’t use it. Otherwise…” his eyes glitter.

Crowley’s smile is all shark. “I love it when you talk murder, Dean. Fine. That tablet has been nothing but trouble, anyway, I’ll be glad to see the last of it.

“As for your mother,” Dean starts, but Crowley holds up his hand.

“I know. I will deal with mother myself. She and I are overdue for some ‘family bonding’ time. Now, we need to seal the contract, darling.” He lets his gaze linger over Dean.

Castiel tenses up and turns away from both men, clenching his blade.

“No,” Sammy says, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I think you should make the contract with me. I’m the one who finds the tablet, after all. And I think I’m tired of your attempts to wedge yourself between my brother and my brother-in-law.”

Crowley clutches his chest. “I’m wounded, Moose. You know, if you wanted to kiss me so badly, you only had to ask.”

Sammy snarls, striding across the salt line to Crowley. His kiss is angry and bruising, and he has to lean down and scoop Crowley close because of their height difference. Crowley takes the chance to twine his fingers in Sammy’s hair, pulling him closer and murmuring against his lips. Sam shudders once, and then pushes the King of Hell away from him with a look that promises mayhem.

Crowley regains his balance with a smirk, making an elaborate gesture with his hand. “Your wish is my command.”

Sam’s eyes flutter open and he starts to cough. Dean kneels next to him, carefully helping him up off the floor, wincing as his own bruises start to catch up to him.

“Feathers,” Crowley turns to Castiel, “I’m going to have to send you for ingredients.”

Donna, Jody, and her charges all are set to work mixing ingredients and fetching things. Sam and Dean sit together on the couch, told to stay there clearly and succinctly by a very edgy Castiel. They watch the activity for a while, leaning on each other to stay upright.

“Dean,” Sam mutters, “You understand that this changes everything.”

“Duh, Sam, that was the point, wasn’t it? Whatever is supposed to happen with Jody and her kids gets to exist and you get your Bobby John, and probably Amelia, too, right?” Dean cracks his neck and winces. “Dude, I do _not_ remember fighting demons being so... achy.”

Sam lets out a frustrated sigh. “No, Dean, that’s not what I mean…”

Dean interrupts him. “Yeah, Sam, I know. Cas and I won’t inherit Claire, and so our fighting just escalates. I will probably lose him to Heaven. I knew that a while back, actually. I guess I just figured that I had my happiness with him already. You deserve your turn. That’s the Winchester luck, right? Only one of us can be happy at a time.”

Sam opens his mouth to object, and Dean shakes his head. “No, you don’t get a say in this, Sam. It wasn’t meant to be, and hell, this way I get to be an uncle. How cool is that?” Sam sighs, knocking his shoulder against Dean affectionately.

Castiel appears with a jug and a nasty look for Crowley. Jody and Donna filter in from the kitchen with a bowl filled with fragrant herbs, and stand around looking tired.

Sam slumps unhappily into the couch. “Will we even remember this?”

Castiel sits awkwardly next to Dean on the arm of the couch. “You will. You have brought yourselves out of the time stream briefly, and so your minds will adjust. You will remember the trip. History will not be exactly as it was before it was changed, but it will try to reform itself as closely as possible to the original timeline. You will not remember the correct history when you get back; much of your life will need to be filled in when you return. There is, however, a possibility that the longer you live within that time line, the more you will “remember” as time attempts to resolve the change. Much like a wound scabbing over.”

Sam laughs as Dean squints and rubs the middle of his forehead. “I think I’m sorry I asked.”

Castiel runs a hand under Dean’s chin. “I will miss you, Dean.”

Dean blinks, “You still have me. I’m in Lawrence right now, as a matter of fact. And this,” he gestures up and down at himself, “This is just aged like good beer. Give the other guy a chance.”

Crowley pipes up, “Gentlemen? Can we get on with this?”

Dean and Sam look at each other and then Crowley, nodding at the same time.

“Do it,” Sam says.

*******

She runs through the woods and the overgrown fields. She leaps over mossy rocks and felled trees, running through brambles that scratch her cheek and tear at her dress. She yells as she runs, howling for the sake of it, a sheer noise straight from her heart. She runs until her sides hurt and her breath comes in tiny little rasping gasps, falling on her ass next to a tiny stream, laughter bursting raggedly out from her pained lungs. She lies there, listening to the water burble past, catching her breath. She can see the sky through the trees, clouds lazily floating around in the bluest of skies.

“Blue is the color of my true love’s eyes,“ She hums to herself, stretching her muscles. A rustling from behind her has her rolling into a crouch, knife out in her hand instantly. Then she laughs, putting the knife back in its sheath.

“Uncle D, Uncle Sam, what are you _doing_ out here? Aren’t you supposed to be helping mom with my party? Bobby John came back from the store run with like, a million things, and I’m pretty sure he was looking for extra hands. I couldn’t help because I was on patrol, but now I’m late…”

Laurel leads them while she talks, seemingly oblivious to their stunned expressions. They stumble a bit, stiff from fighting and too much time spent away from home.

At the edge of the woods is a freshly mown field. Four houses and another large barn-like building stand here now, all sharing the massive field as a backyard. In the center stands a gigantic tree, the ground around it a riot of colors. Dean stops dead and stares at it, unable to move. The tree is decked out with fairy lights, and he stammers, “It’s your birthday party.” His head feels fuzzy and hot, and he realizes that he is crying. Dean wipes his hand across his face and looks at the wetness on his fingers numbly.

Laurel has already joined up with her friends who are yelling and laughing, spraying each other with water. Sam keeps moving past Dean, clapping him on the shoulder as he goes by, looking for his son. The music is too loud, and Dean feels the world tilting a little under him. He trips over his own feet, stumbling into someone very solid.

“Woah there, cowboy,” the man says, turning around to catch Dean. His voice, gravelly and low like a smoker’s voice, is just the best thing Dean has ever heard. He captures Castiel’s mouth, kissing him like a starving man.

“How are you here?” he whispers, touching his husband’s face with shaking hands. “How are you still here?”

Castiel smiles as he kisses Dean’s eyelids each in turn. “Well. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch him turn into you. How could Heaven compare to growing old with the love of my life?” He takes Dean’s hand.

“Come, my love. Let me introduce you to Bobby John. Your nephew is quite an amazing man. After that, you should see what we three have built with Jody and Donna. It is really quite extraordinary.”

Castiel leads him through the party to meet his family.


End file.
